


Be and End All

by AeeDee



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Extramarital Affairs, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 15:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2314175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AeeDee/pseuds/AeeDee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They shouldn't be meeting like this. Not still.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be and End All

His smile is like autumn. Familiar warmth, the lingering images of pleasant memories from so many years since they first met. Sparks of sunlight glittering through the trees above and the bitter chill of the cold snapping at his bones while they wander beneath the canopy of leaves, hand in hand; one hesitant, the other strong.

His feet unsteady as they move so slowly, slow enough to make this moment linger because it was fleeting, would always be. His feet hesitant and faltering every time he has to step over the weaving tree roots and fallen branches because he feels heavy and low. The hand that holds onto his so tightly, and every time he looks at him, at that strong man, he sees the same smile on his face. Pleasant and subtle, lips that curve even as his eyes remain still.

They reach the end of the trail, where the trees begin to open into the housing complex below. The return of civilization, and with one more step, that strong hand sets his free. The sudden startle of the cool air against his skin, emphasizing and awakening the new lack.

The neutrality in that man’s voice, the terse words smooth and still. “We should be heading back, don’t you think.”

“Yeah,” but he can’t even make eye contact. Doesn’t want to. Not with the way he’s acting.

At the end, he is always like this. Always. It doesn’t matter if they last met a few days or several months before. When they reach this point, the end of their reunion he puts on a new face and turns the other cheek.

A firm hand on his shoulder, but it’s cold and heavy. Impersonal. “I’ll catch you later, kid.”

“Yeah.”

“Ring me when you’re back in town, alright?”

His smile is like autumn. Familiar warmth, lingering images of their memories together, from the many years since they met. Sunlight glittering through the canopy of leaves above as the sun starts to fall. There was a day when they said to one another, “let’s chase it,” and they ran towards the horizon. Circled the globe a few times until it inevitably fell beneath the distant ocean. And they’d chase it again, catch it and watch it rise in another corner of the world.

That memory seems so distant, now. Lost somewhere in the changing of seasons. Vanished somewhere in the years between them, the distance of time from when they first kissed to that day in the sharp bite of winter, when the snow fell around them and Barry pointed to the wedding ring on his finger and said it meant something, it had to mean something goddammit; the first time he’d ever cursed at him.

First and only time. So long ago, now…

Since then, they meet in secret. Sometimes once a week, sometimes only once after several weeks or months. Sometimes just a few times a year. They’ll meet and collapse into a bed somewhere, exchange kisses that feel sweet like they used to, and make love like it still means something. Like it still could, after all this time and distance, when they know full well they’ve moved on.

Gave their hearts away to two different people, one of which that knows and another that doesn’t. It’s awful. It’s complicated. It’s everything ugly and beautiful.

Because his smile is like autumn, every single time Wally sees Barry appear beside him. Warm and radiant, and he feels the allure of sunlight and that familiar comfort he’s always felt when he’s so close to him. The stifling of his breathing and the heaviness of his heart when he leans against his chest, and Barry finally allows a slow and exhausted sigh to escape.

Wally’s hands are reaching up, and there’s no move or retaliation from Barry to avoid them.

Hands trailing gentle and light over his skin, from his jaw to just beneath his eyes, and then across the bridge of his nose and down to his mouth as Barry kisses his fingertips.

Snaking back to run his hands through Barry’s hair, increasingly rough as he ages. Runs his hands through and tugs him forward, and they’re kissing effortlessly, easy as it ever was. Like nothing happened, and nothing ever came between them. Nothing changed, and they’re standing in the orange glow of the sinking sun and falling in love.

The kiss breaks with silence. Always does. But Barry’s not smiling anymore. No grin this time. No cheerful farewell. Only a slow blink, and the hint of a frown and he seems unable to look away. Wally’s leaning forward, pressing their foreheads together and his eyes close.

Arms around his shoulders, and he knows it won’t last, but what does?

Nothing ever does.

A quiet murmur that’s reassuring—no matter how much it hurts—visceral like the chill that snaps at his bones and stings his eyes when he opens them. “I love you,” and Wally exhales a broken sigh and nods. “I know.” Again. “I know.”

“Me too,” with a quick kiss to the side of his face, the face of the man he loves more than he can stand. More than he can tolerate. More weight and regret than he can carry on his back. Suffering and aching and it’s lonely and cold when Barry sends him a small smile and takes a slight bow, a farewell wave with his hand, the hand wearing someone else’s wedding ring; the hand that should belong to him.

Wally’s too old for jealousy. He knows it. Jealousy has no place with a man that’s happily married with two children. Jealousy is a game for the immature and naïve. Young fools too optimistic and self-entitled to accept defeat, and to understand what they can and can’t have.

But somehow, it’s come to this. Barry waves, and just like that, he’s gone. Wally’s lingering between the impulse to follow him and turn to return home. He's suspended between where he belongs and where he should be.

He’s never known which is where.


End file.
